


Time Can't Erase a Feeling This Strong

by twoshipstiedup



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But also, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Musician Harry, Photographer Louis, Romance, Seattle, The 90s, Young and Older Direction, side Ziam, some miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoshipstiedup/pseuds/twoshipstiedup
Summary: Seattle, 1999In the dawn of the new millennium, Louis was happily coasting along in a new city, doing a job he loves and hanging with his friends. Harry was coasting along trying to figure out what makes him happy.Eventually, they figure it out together





	Time Can't Erase a Feeling This Strong

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that I just posted a fic, but I was going along minding my own business when I saw a picture of Harry from the Another Man shoot looking so much like he belonged in the 90's, so, I had to write about it. And this is what happened. I hope you you like it :)

**February 2019**

 

Louis stood in front of the floor length mirror in his bedroom, turning his head from side to side as he buttoned up his black dress shirt and tucked it into his equally black jeans. He leaned forward and brushed at the sides of his hair, nodding to himself. He could do worse. His hair was definitely more grey than it was dark these days, but he still had it all on his head forty seven years later, so he considered that a small victory.

There had been a handful of times where he’d contemplated dying it (a handful of desperate times he should say), but ever since Tan France, fellow Doncaster transplant made greying look hot, he said fuck it, he could age gracefully.

He noted that his eyes seemed to stand out even more in the rare winter sunshine beaming through his bedroom window thanks to the contacts he had slipped in earlier. So, maybe he was aging somewhat gracefully. However, today happened to be a special occasion, he did wear his glasses most of the time as he’s been told they enhance his ‘dilf’ status.

He moved over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, thumbing over one of the leather bound albums before pulling it out and smoothing a hand over the cover with a smile. He fingered the etched ‘1999’ in the top right hand corner, ready to flip it open, when he heard his named being called out by a slightly annoyed Zayn.

“Lou, what the hell are you doing up there? Get your ass down here and help!”

“I’m coming!”

He gave an affectionate shake of his head. Zayn had been impatient from the very first minute they met. He’d get over it.

He placed the photo album on the bed, patting a palm on the cover as he glanced at the velvet box sitting on his bedside table.

“Later.”

~                                                                                          

**January, 1999**

 

Louis sucked on his second cigarette of the night, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he shivered into his jean jacket. He had been used to rainy weather, it was in his English blood, but the West Coast chill somehow wrapped around you and seeped right into your bones, and even after two years in Seattle, it still surprised him every time.

Louis had been twenty five when he followed his boyfriend over to the States, an age he had thought was mature enough to know that he was making the right decision. It turned out to be that he was very wrong about that after finding Brad in a compromising position with not one, but three different men, to which he claimed was perfectly normal, the ‘scene’ was so much different out here and that Louis just needed to live a little.

Yeah he did need to live a little, in another apartment many blocks away from Brad’s den of iniquity.

He wasn’t a prude by any means, but after uprooting his whole life he had figured he would at least be granted the courtesy of having a faithful partner. People love to claim that the bible said it was Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve, but Louis was definitely sure it was not Adam and Steve and all of his friends.

After the sudden demise of his relationship, he threw himself into work and he was getting quite a lot of it due to the burgeoning Seattle music scene that had blown up in the early nineties. Louis had spent his late teens and early twenties scouring London clubs and dive bars, taking as many photos of musicians and bands as he could and hustling them to every publication that would look at his work, which had built up his portfolio quite a bit before he had made the move across the ocean.

So, he was kind of lucky in a sense. Even though he didn’t really know anyone in the city, he had his work, which he loved, to keep him active, social and occupied.

And even though it was work that made him stay, it was his new found friendships that made it his home.

He met Zayn and Liam the night that he photographed the Foo Fighters for the first time, after Liam accused him of hitting on Zayn when asked him if he could take his picture. He laughed and handed Liam his card, stating that he was doing some freelance work for the same magazine Zayn wrote articles for and had been asked to get a picture to go with his column.

Zayn apologized profusely, explaining that even though Liam was in med school, sometimes he wasn’t quite all there, to which Liam then fired back of course he was ‘all there’, he was going to be a doctor for god’s sake, and as Louis watched them bicker back and forth he realized this was exactly the kind of relationship he wanted.

London had obviously been a lot more open and accepting than the small town life Louis had been accustomed to, so that freedom was like nothing he had ever experienced when he had first moved there. But Seattle had a sense of community to it, and once he met Zayn and Liam it finally felt like he truly belonged somewhere.

After their amusing mix up, Zayn invited him to come over and listen to records the next day because he was adamant that they needed to be friends. On top of being a music columnist, he also owned a record store in Capitol Hill that their apartment sat above. Louis gladly accepted, and ever since then they had a long standing Sunday afternoon date of getting high and disagreeing about music.

Which was why he was surprised that Zayn still invited him to gigs, though if he actually had to pinpoint the reason, it would be because Liam had terrible taste in music (in Louis’ music snob opinion) so he didn’t really like the stuff that Zayn covered for the magazine, and he was usually at the hospital since he had just started his internship.

Louis also carried the burden of never being able to say no to Zayn, or to a photography credit no matter how much he complained about the state of music these days. And all of those reasons were why Louis was standing outside of the Showbox on a Friday night in late January, almost freezing to death. 

Zayn finally appeared around the corner, looking as effortlessly cool as always in leather, Docs and torn up black jeans, his own cigarette illuminating a rich amber on the darkened sidewalk. He flicked it to the ground and used his toe to ground it out, pushing the hair that had fallen over his face back out of his eyes. He had recently gotten an undercut and Louis would never understand the mathematics of how everything looked good on Zayn Malik.

“Hey man, sorry, I forgot to lock up the shop and then I forgot my notes, and you know. I’m late. As always,”

Louis grinned, sliding his backpack around his front to pull out his camera so he could hang it around his neck. “I know you too well by now, I just got here too.”

Zayn put a hand on his shoulder, ushering them towards the door, “We’re still a bit early anyways, the band doesn’t go on until nine or nine thirty.”

Louis glanced at the flyer as Zayn flashed his credentials to the box office clerk, “The Goo Goo Dolls? I’ve never heard of them,”

“No surprise there, they aren’t exactly in your music repertoire of one band, Louis.”

“Fuck off, I like other things.” A lie. Louis was all Ramones all the time, but he _did_ know other things, mostly not by choice, due to the nature of his job.

Zayn’s perfectly arched eyebrow was locked and ready to call him out on his bullshit. Louis rolled his eyes and followed him into the club. It was great live venue, not too big, but big enough to have a ton of pretty rad bands come through its doors over the years. There were only around forty or so people there so far, and one lone singer on the stage strumming on an acoustic guitar.

They stayed near the back, leaning against a wall closest to bar and opted to listen to the singer for a few minutes before prepping to meet the band. Zayn huffed out a surprised laugh, turning his head to Louis in question, “Is this kid singing a stripped down version of California Love?”

“I do believe he is.” Louis drew his eyes over this boy on stage, who was dressed a bit like Kurt Cobain (RIP) in his faded Levi’s and oversized cardigan. He also had on bubblegum pink Converse high tops and his pile of curly hair was twisted up into a messy bun and to anyone with working eyesight, you’d have to say he was rather breathtaking.

Louis lifted his camera up from where it was hanging against his chest to snap a couple of pictures as he crooned out another song about holding the hand of his hostage taker. He was certainly an interesting subject to say the least.

He powered his way through a cover of Hootie and the Blowfish’s ‘Let Her Cry’ and then ended with the Spice Girls, who even Louis knew, he did go to gay bars after all. They had taken over the world in a shockingly short amount of time, paving the way for a boy band resurgence that had been trickling into the airwaves slowly but surely. See, he didn’t have to like it, but Louis did know some things.

They clapped after he was done his set, Louis smiling down at his own high tops when he caught his wandering eye. He had never jumped on any of the terrible fashion fads that the nineties were trying to push upon him, staying tried and true to his black jeans, black t-shirts, jean jackets and Converse. He did have a leather jacket, but he tried not to wear it around Zayn because it wasn’t a fair fight.

Zayn bumped at his hip, pointing to the side of the stage the singer was coming down from. “He was really good, let’s go have a chat with him. I’ll add a little blurb on him in the article.”

Louis followed his lead, making their way over to meet the curious green eyes of the performer. Zayn held out his hand, reaching his other arm over to pull Louis up beside him. “Hey man, that was really fucking great. I’m Zayn Malik, from Spin Magazine,”

“Hi,” he shook his hand, a shy smile crossing over his pretty pink lips, “Harry Styles. And I know who you are, I’ve read a ton of your stuff,” he dropped his hand, shooting a glance at Louis before meeting Zayn’s eyes again, this time with flushed cheeks. “And thank you, that’s such a complement coming from you.”

Zayn waved him off, “I’m full of shit most of the time, trust me.” He nodded his head towards Louis, “This is my friend Louis Tomlinson. He photographed Nirvana in their prime,”

Louis sighed and shook his head, holding his own hand out to Harry now. “He does this to embarrass me, I’m sorry. Nice to meet you Harry,”

Harry’s eyes were wide as he stared at Louis like he had suddenly placed him up on a pedestal. “That is _so_ fucking cool.”

Louis laughed, shrugging his shoulders up, “I guess it’s a little bit cool, yeah.”

Zayn reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pen and his notebook, flipping it open. He refused to use any kind of tape machine for his interviews, claiming he could read his chicken scratch writing perfectly and then tapped the side of his head for good measure, declaring it was ‘all up here’. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions for the piece I’m writing tonight?”

He looked between them slightly confused, but nodded his consent anyways. “Umm, sure,”

“Cool,” Zayn brought his pen up to the paper, giving Harry an encouraging smile. “So, do you play here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,”

He shook his head, scratching a finger along the side of his very perfect nose. “No, not really, my um, mom owns the place, so once in a while when it’s quiet I’ll get up there,”

Louis gaped at him, “That’s way fucking cooler than my thing, what a rad mum,”

Harry seemed to loosen up after that, a sincere smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, she is.”

Zayn’s face was covered in disbelief as he jot down a quick note, “Well you should think about doing it more often, you really were great. All of your covers sounded so original and inspired, I loved that. What was that second song by the way, I couldn’t quite place it?”

He brought his thumb nail up to this mouth, chewing on it like his nerves had never left. “Oh, I wrote that one, it’s called Stockholm Syndrome,”

“Holy shit, Harry, okay seriously I am going to come down here and bug you once a week if you don’t pursue this, you need to keep writing music,” Zayn exclaimed incredulously.

Louis quietly watched Harry as they chatted and interacted, thinking back on the lyrics to the song he had written. If had known any better, he would have said he was singing about being captivated by another man. Then again, Louis knew that lyrics were subjective, so maybe that’s just what he wanted to hear.  

Zayn passed Harry his business card, still shaking his head at Harry’s revelations. “Please, call me whenever you decide to do this again, I’d love to cover it,”

Harry blushed, shuffling back and forth on his feet. “I mean I work here, so come back whenever you like, I’ll be around.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Zayn nudged Louis with his shoulder, “Anything to add, Tommo?”

Louis tapped his toe to the sticky ground, cocking his head to the side, “Actually, yes. What’s your favorite song right now?”

Harry’s face flushed again, and truthfully at this point Louis was surprised he hadn’t fainted. “I don’t think you’ll know it,”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “And why is that?”

He swallowed nervously, “I mean…you don’t look like you’d know who Mariah Carey is,”

Zayn threw his head back and laughed, slapping a palm to Harry’s shoulder. “Oh I really do like you. Everyone should call Louis out on his shit like this,”

Louis almost put his hands on his hips. Almost. “Try me.”

“Okay, it’s ‘Always Be My Baby’”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t know that. But he was going to lie and whip out the one that he does know because honestly, no one could escape this song. “My favorite Mariah is ‘One Sweet Day’”

Harry didn’t really look like he believed him, so he lied too. “Oh, okay, so you do know. Nice.”

Zayn smirked, shaking his head as he scribbled one more note onto his pad of paper. He slipped it back in his pocket, offering Harry a warm smile. “Nice meeting you Harry, we’ll see you around,”

“Nice to meet you guys as well. And thank you again, I really am flattered,” he thumbed back behind him, “I better get back to work, can I get you guys anything?”

Louis shook his head, “No, we’ll get something later, thank you though.”

“K, bye.” He waved a hand and turned to head back to the bar, immediately tying an apron around his waist once he got there. He was dedicated for sure.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to convince him to be a rock star, he is way too sweet.”

Louis shrugged, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I think he’s just nervous, plus he’s young, what is he like, twenty?”

Zayn pat his pocket again, this time probably looking for the notes he forgot and then misplaced again. Louis doesn’t know how he makes it through most days without Liam following him around with everything he needs. “Dunno, but I better get backstage and start interviewing the band, I can’t hang around after they’re done,”

Louis picked his camera up again, trying to be subtle about the picture he was sneakily taking of Harry laughing from behind the bar. “Why?”

“Liam will be going on hour twenty two at the hospital. I thought I’d stop by and have some dinner with him,”

“You two will be the death of me. Death due to cuteness,”

Louis turned around and snapped a picture of Zayn, who miming choking him when he put the camera back down. “Seriously, don’t you have enough pictures where I look like I want to kill you?”

Louis moved in closer so he could squish Zayn’s face with his fingers, “Yeah but you look gorgeous in all of them, so what do you care?”

Zayn slapped his hand away, but he was definitely biting back his smile. “Do you want to come backstage and take the pics? Then you won’t have to stay and listen to them,”

Louis wrapped him into a hug, rocking them in a circle to face the back.

“A man after my own heart, I swear.”

He caught Harry staring at them when he opened his eyes again, and he couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes.

He smiled at him and slung an arm around Zayn, walking them into the backstage area. He forgot about those questioning green eyes for the next hour so he could give all of his unwanted attention to a group of veteran rockers with a song about a girl named Iris that Louis could not get out of his head after their impromptu backstage jam session.

Honestly, he would have preferred Mariah Carey.

…

When he finally made it home after a brief pit stop for a hamburger and six pack of beers, he headed straight to his dark room to develop his film. He had promised Zayn he would drop the pictures off in the morning, so he wanted to get it done now, mostly because this was his favorite way to unwind at the end of the day. Some people liked to curl up with a glass of wine and a good book, which was also nice from time to time, but Louis preferred a cold beer and a roll of film.

He hung the prints up one by one, stopping to pick up one of the pictures of Harry sitting on stage.

There was something about his eyes that haunted Louis, something he recognized but couldn’t put his finger on. He held it up to the light, as if that would somehow have the answer for him. All he knew was that when he smiled it was completely beautiful, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

And that made Louis melancholy for a boy he didn’t even know.

He hung the picture back up with a shake of his head, switching the slight off behind him.

“Mind your own business Louis.”

 ~                                                                                      

**January 1999**

 

Harry faintly smiled at the passing faces of his fellow early morning risers, grazing his fingers over a bunch of kale as he stopped to inspect it. As cheesy as it may be, he loved the Pike Place market and strolling through the stalls on a Monday morning when it wasn’t as tourist heavy. He could take his time picking out fresh produce and interesting cuts of meat so he could treat his mother to a nice home cooked meal on the one day a week she was off from the club.

And maybe he treated himself to a chocolate croissant every once in a while as well. Or two. Who was really counting?

He was in the middle of investigating some blood oranges, when he caught the flash of a camera out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look over his shoulder and there wedged between the romaine and radishes was Louis, the photographer who had occupied a lot of his thoughts over the weekend, causing him to write more lyrics than he ever had before.

He was in a similar outfit to the one he wore on Friday night, but he had traded his jean jacket in for an oversized black hoodie. He had his hair pushed out of his face with an elastic headband, making his vibrant eyes even more noticeable now that his shaggy hair wasn’t hanging in the front of them.

They were a bright, almost robin egg blue and they were also now staring directly into Harry’s surprised green ones. The thing about it was, Harry hadn’t really expected to see him again, he had safely regulated him to be a song writing fantasy, and now here is was in the flesh casually strolling over to him with a friendly smile.

“Fancy meeting you here,”

Harry quickly discarded his fruit, turning to face Louis. “Hey, hi,”

“And hello to you,” he tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie once he came to a full stop in front of Harry. “What brings a young lad like yourself to the market this early on a Monday morning?”

Harry felt the heat rise on his face as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. He didn’t know why Louis made him this nervous, yet here he was, perspiring under his watchful eyes. “I like to cook, so Monday is kind of my free day to try out different things,”

Louis whistled, “A musician and a cook? I am very impressed.”

Harry shrugged the complement off. “There’s really no need to be,” he nodded at the camera hanging around Louis’ neck. “Are you working?”

“No,” Louis’ cheeks colored a light pink as he puffed out an embarrassment laced breath, “And never tell anyone this, especially Zayn, but I come to watch the guys throwing the fish.”

Harry barked out a laugh, covering his wide and surely goofy grin. His hand slipped away a moment later, revealing a toothy smile, “Seriously?”

Louis groaned, rubbing a hand down his sheepish face. “I know, it’s so lame, but I’ve only been here for two years, so it’s still a bit of a novelty to me.”

Harry shook his head, “No, I get it. I’ve lived here my whole life and I still like coming here.” He wanted to know so much more about Louis now, so he decided to pull some bravery out of his pocket. “Do you want to grab a coffee? If you’ve got time that is,”

Louis’ expression immediately went from sunny to slightly exasperated. “You Americans and your coffee, I will never understand this movement,”

Harry laughed. “I’m sorry?”

He shook his head with a laugh of his own, “You’re forgiven.”  He held out his arm in front of him, indicating for Harry to go ahead. “And I’ve got some time, lead the way.”

Harry turned on his heel and smiled to himself as he made his way towards the exit, making the quick trek across the street to the very first Starbucks, another touristy draw that was quiet for the time being.

He held the door open for Louis and waited for him to pass through before moving over to stand in the line. “Do you want to grab a table while I get the drinks?”

“Sure, and I suppose I’ll have a coffee. Black with a splash of milk, please,”

Harry nodded, “Noted. Anything to eat?”

He shook his head, “Only if you’re getting something, don’t go out of your way.”

Harry watched him walk off into the crowd, turning his attention to the barista to place their orders. He also grabbed them both a slice of banana bread, handing over a couple of bills with a smile and a thank you.

He balanced everything in his hands and headed towards the back corner where Louis had situated himself, and wondered if he was aware of how he looked. He seemed to be in his own little world as he snapped pictures of the front window and the ceiling, radiating pure happiness from something so simple. And to put it simply, he was beautiful.

Louis glanced up at him when he placed his coffee and treat in front of him, watching curiously as Harry shrugged out of his knee length wool coat and slid into the seat across from him. Louis moved his camera, placing it into his canvas backpack, flicking his eyes over at Harry. “Are you headed somewhere special after this?”

Harry took a sip of his coffee, frowning down at his plain white t-shirt and back up at Louis. “No. Why?”

Louis grinned easily. “You look so posh in that coat,” he took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Bloody hell,”

Harry laughed, leaning his elbows forward onto the table. “I could have got you something else you know,”

“Shut up, I’m trying to fit in.”

He laughed again, letting his mind wander back to the posh comment. “Also, I’m not sure if I’d wear my old Chucks to something special,”

Louis smirked, cocking up an eyebrow up. “Is that a dig?”

Harry choked on a piece of banana bread, eyes widening with panic. “No! I mean—

“You’re too easy,” he joked with a fond shake of the head. He sat back in his chair, clasping his palms together in his lap. “Alright, so you said you don’t play often. Do you go to school then?”

Harry nodded, picking at the corner of his abandoned bread. “Yeah, I’m actually an English major. Or, I’m going to be when I finish. I took my last semester off,”

Louis peered at him like he was insane, and truthfully he probably was. “But you’re almost done!”

Harry sighed, drumming his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. “I know, I know, but I’m just not sure that being a teacher is what I’m passionate about.”

“Is that what you eventually want to do?”

“That was the plan, yeah,”

Louis shrugged. “I mean, it’s not uncommon to feel that way, people change their career paths all the time. Have you considered pursuing music? Zayn isn’t wrong you know, he does do this for a living after all,”

“So do you,” Harry offered.

“Yeah but I’m not there to offer my opinion, I’m just there to take the pictures.”

A cheeky smile tugged on Harry’s lips. “I bet you have one about the band on Friday seeing as you left before they even went on,”

Louis nodded, sipping his coffee and grimacing once again. “That song is shit.”

Harry rolled his eyes, biting back another laugh. He couldn’t seem to stop around Louis. “It’s not that bad.”

Louis simply smiled in return. He checked his watch as he crumpled up his napkin, “Hmm, I’m just about out of time. I’ve got a meeting with a new client in fifteen, something about shooting a food show, whatever that means,”

“Oh, it’s probably that culinary expo, they do it every year. It’s pretty cool.” Louis raised his eyebrows. Harry blushed. Again. “I like to cook, remember?”

“Right.” He grabbed his backpack off the chair beside him, strapping it over his shoulders. “Thanks for the coffee. It was nice running into you,”

“You too. I’ll see you around?”

Louis backed away with a wink, “Maybe if you’re lucky.”

Harry waved him off and sat back with a heavy sigh once Louis was out the door. Louis was so cool and full of life, but he was also easy to talk to and so chill at the same time.

And he was exactly the kind of guy that Harry would love to be with.

When Harry was twelve he had gone to a birthday party and played spin the bottle. He kissed two girls and went home later feeling strange about it. He knew that he was supposed to like it, but there was something missing for him.

Then one day a few months later, he had strolled by his sister’s room as she was jamming out to ‘Faith’ by George Michael and he almost walked straight into a wall. He hovered in her bedroom doorway mesmerized by the video, and also by the way George was shaking his ass in his skin tight Levi’s jeans.

He immediately locked himself in his room and spent the next week watching everything about him that he could get his hands on, all while realizing that he wanted George’s hands on him. Then when Freedom 90 came out he was certain of it. He loved George Michael, and he liked boys.

He didn’t come out to his family until he was fifteen, but they welcomed him with open arms and reassurance that whoever he chose to love would never matter to them. He knows exactly how lucky he has been to have such an accepting family and to grow up in an equally accepting city.

Throughout high school he mostly kept to himself save for a couple of confusing make out sessions. Even though he was sure about his sexuality, he wasn’t quite sure that he was ready to act on it. He got a little more adventurous his first year in college, finally kissing a handful of boys and touching a dick that wasn’t his own. And up until now he hasn’t gone much further than hand jobs and a badly timed blow job, because call him old fashioned if you must, he was waiting for a person who could be the one. He wanted it to be special and he wanted it to be with someone that was going to stick around.

Sometimes he did feel lonely and that maybe he was holding his standards too high, and he knew exactly when those times were because his mom would tickle him until he was wheezing and smiling from head to toe. It was always his eyes that gave him away, and he probably needed to work on that. 

He didn’t know what the future held, but after the first love of his life was outed last year and turned a what would be nightmare into a widely received hit song, he had hope.

His thoughts meandered back to Louis again, thinking about how attracted to him he was. He quickly pushed it away with a shake of his head. It was fine to use him as writing inspiration, whoever had to know, and lyrics could mean anything you wanted them to anyways. But if he let his fantasies go any further he would just be setting himself up for all kinds of disappointment.

He stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, shrugging it onto his shoulders with a smile.

He’d take the posh compliment either way though.

~                                                                                             

**March 1999**

Louis warily looked up at the sign of the pub and back over at Zayn. “Tell me how you talked me into this again?”

“Because Liam finally has two days off in a row, and he wanted me to meet his new friend Niall,”

“On St. Patrick’s Day?”

“He’s Irish.”

“Ah.” Louis pulled the door open, offering a hand out to Zayn to step in front of him. Like most people who didn’t want to be thrown up on midweek, Louis tended to steer clear of bars and pubs on the one day a year where everyone became unofficially Irish. However, Zayn had nagged him so much during the day that he eventually gave in. Plus as previously stated, he couldn’t say no to him. “Is Liam already here?”

“Yeah I told him to come early and start drinking, he deserves it,” Zayn glanced over his shoulder, a funny look lining his eyes. Louis squint at him, trying to figure it out. He bounced his eyebrows up and down in answer.

Louis let out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Are you sure you haven’t had a few green beers yourself? You’re acting very strange,”

“It’s nothing, I’m just excited—oh hey, there they are,” Zayn pointed to a table and pulled him over towards it by the sleeve of his leather jacket. He was safe to wear it today because Zayn had gotten into the spirit with an army green jacket.

They walked up to the high top which was occupied by Liam and a skinny bleached blonde with a loopy grin that he could only assume was Niall, because for some reason the third person with them was none other than Harry Styles in all his curly glory.

Liam jumped up from his stool, happily clapping his hands together, “Finally! Get in here, come meet Niall and Harry,”

Louis paused briefly to take Harry in. His hair was tucked into a bun again, much like the last time he’d seen him, and there was a green and black checkered flannel hanging off his frame with one too many buttons undone, draped over black Levi’s that were cuffed at the hems to show off his bright green high tops. Honestly, he had to admire the effort.

“Oh we know Harry, the question is, how does Harry know Niall,” Louis offered the table with a grin. “I say you Niall, as you’re the common denominator here,”

Niall’s answering laugh was contagious. He poured them each a beer from one of the three pitchers in front of them, sliding the glasses across the table. “I met Harry at the club, I used to sing there occasionally. He told me I was shit, and we’re been friends ever since.”

Harry nodded, “That is true.” He accepted his freshly filled glass with a smile. “How have you guys been?”

Louis licked the foam stash from his bearded upper lip, noting the slight twitch in Harry’s eye as he did so. “Good, good, work has been busy, though nothing compared to these two,” he reached over to pat Liam on the shoulder, “How are you surviving by the way? I haven’t seen you in over a month,”

Liam passed Niall a shot, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “I’m actually doing pretty good, but that’s thanks to this guy right here,”

Niall clinked their glasses together, downing the golden hued whiskey and chasing it with a pull of Guinness. “No, thank _you_ Liam, I’d be fucking lost without you,” he pushed a shot towards Zayn with a bright smile. “You’ve got a good guy on your hands here,”

Zayn pursed his lips, blowing an air kiss towards Liam. “I know. And he’s going to be a brilliant surgeon one day.”

Niall blanched, pushing a couple more shots to the center of the table. “God, don’t remind me. Today, we drink,” he downed two shots in a row, sending them an apologetic look after, “Oh and sorry for making you come to like, the straightest bar ever. You guys can take me out dancing next time we hang, it’ll be fun.”

Louis finally indulged in a shot of his own, the amber liquid burning in his veins the same way Harry’s stare was burning into his soul. Whiskey was a bad idea. Harry coughed into his fist, moving careful eyes over to Zayn and Liam now. “How long have you guys been together?”

A soft smile spread across Zayn’s face as he reached over to run his pinky along the side of Liam’s hand. “Since high school,”

Niall blew out an impressed whistle, “Wow, that’s what, ten years?” They nodded. He held up another shot, toasting to the two of them, “Well, I hope you two can get married one day. Truly,”

“Aww, thanks Niall.”

Louis smiled to himself, feeling warm from his head to his toes. Niall was sweet and kind. If only all people could be like him. His slightly unfocused eyes were on Louis now, a question dancing behind them. “And what about you Louis, any romances?”

Now he needed another shot. He reached for one (honestly where did they keep coming from), shaking his head, “Umm no, I’m staying away from all that for a while.”

Niall nodded, “Same. There are so many hot nurses at the hospital. I gotta keep my options open,”

Harry rolled his eyes with a snort. “Nice.”

Louis tipped his head, curious about Harry’s reaction now. “And you Harry? Single and ready to mingle?”

“Yeah but, I’m fine. No mingling.”

Louis arched his eyebrows up in surprise. Harry looking the way he did, in no world, should be single. “Really? You’re young, you should be,” he waved a hand around the packed bar, “Look at all these drunk people, now is the perfect time to get in there.”

He shook his head again, bringing his beer up to his pursed lips. “I’m good.”

Niall hugged an arm around his hips, pulling him into his side. “Doesn’t matter, he’ll be fighting them off once he’s a full blown rock star,”

Harry’s face flushed red as he took another long sip of his drink, hiding his face behind the glass. Louis immediately dropped it, deciding he needed to get everyone onto the level of Niall.

“More shots?”

The answering cheer was all he needed to turn and head to the bar and think about why he cared so much about Harry’s dating life.

…

The drinks had been flowing steady all afternoon, leaving Zayn and Liam huddled close together and laughing into each other’s necks, while Niall cruised around the bar boasting to anyone that would listen that he was actually Irish and the ‘kiss me I’m Irish’ good luck wouldn’t come true unless you kissed someone who was fully, 100% Irish.

Louis was truly impressed and wished (for about ten seconds) that he was straight. Ah, to live the simple life.

Harry had wandered off some time ago, and that had concerned him a bit. He seemed slightly off when he left the table, so now that everyone else was drunkenly distracted, he set off in search of him.

He found him outside on the balcony, huddled into a sherpa lined jean jacket, the little wispy curls at the sides of his head blowing softly in the mid-March wind. Louis ambled up beside him, leaning his back against the railing so he could face him.

“Hey, I just wanted to say that I was sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,”

Harry was quick to shake his head, meeting Louis’ eyes directly. “You didn’t.”

Louis frowned, turning onto his side so his body was slightly closer to Harry’s. Body heat was a thing. “Are you sure? You can tell me and my big dumb mouth to shut up, I’ve been told many times before.”

Harry finally let out a genuine laugh. “No. It’s fine.”

“Alright.”

Harry went back to concentrating on the choppy ocean waves again, flicking his eyes nervously back at Louis a second later. “I’m just…I don’t, um, date a lot,”

Louis raised his arm up, hesitating briefly before placing a comforting hand on Harry’s forearm. “You don’t have to explain yourself, or tell me anything that you don’t want to Harry,”

He watched the internal struggle that Harry was having, as it was written all over his face. He was so expressive in his emotions, and Louis wanted nothing but to hold him close and tell him he was sorry for causing him any distress. He finally looked at Louis again, worriedly chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m gay,” he admitted quietly.

Louis reached out to touch him again, this time leaving his hand on his arm, and hopefully reassuring him with understanding eyes, “So am I. That’s actually how I ended up here. I followed my boyfriend over, though that clearly didn’t work out,”

Harry’s face went through a series of expressions after that, from brightened relief back to a sudden frown. “I’m sorry.”

Louis smiled, squeezing his fingers into Harry’s arm. All he wanted to do was make sure that he knew everything would be okay. “Don’t be. He was a bit of a prick anyways.”

“You stayed though, how come?”

“Seattle was easy to love, and I met some great people,” he smoothed his hand up Harry’s arm, bringing his palm up to cup his face. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries here, but he wanted to get his point across. “You don’t ever have to be ashamed of who you are Harry. You are not alone. Always remember that. And thank you for being brave and telling me, I know that it isn’t easy.”

Harry hesitated momentarily before wrapping Louis into a hug. “Thank you.” He pulled back, looking at Louis with that shy smile that was sure to have stolen many hearts that Harry didn’t know about. “It’s so hard to meet people, and—

Louis pressed a finger to his lips. “Nope, none of that,” Harry raised his eyebrows, watching him intently. “We’re going to take you out to dance and have some laughs, and some boy is going to sweep you off your feet,”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds fun.”

Louis smiled up at him. He didn’t look convinced but they would work on that.

“Now, let’s go get smashed out of our minds, these doctors need to be put in their places.”

Louis started to head back inside and made the mistake of looking back behind him.

Harry was so fucking gorgeous _and_ he was on his team.

But Louis had just made him a promise that he would find him a nice boy, and Louis didn’t like to break promises.

Louis sometimes, was an idiot.

~                                                                              

**April 1999**

 

Harry paced the length of the dressing room backstage, absently pushing an escapee curl back into his bun. He didn’t really need to be in here, he was still wearing the same clothes he showed up to the club in, but he had just taken the stage for a six song set that were mostly his own. Needless to say, he was having a moment.

They say that most artists, be it musicians, actors, painters and so on, have a muse and after his heart to heart with Louis on St. Patrick’s Day, he had found his.

And he hadn’t even been looking.

The rest of their afternoon had been lighthearted fun after such a heavy talk, and by the end of the day it had felt like the five of them had maybe known each other in another lifetime, they all got on that well. When it came time to wrap up they all exchanged numbers, with Louis’ burning a hole in the pocket of Harry’s ripped jeans over the past two weeks he had spent tucked away in his room writing.

The last time Harry had locked himself in a room over a guy he fell in love with him, so this was never a good sign.

Of course it was great just having Louis as a friend, the fact that he was into guys as well didn’t mean that he would instinctively be into Harry, he knew that. But, he could dream. It’s not like it was his fault that Louis was so achingly attractive and on top of that, a truly nice person. It’ll be fine though, he’ll get over it. Maybe Louis Tomlinson was his first real crush and he needed to go through this.

That’s what he’s been telling himself anyways.

Regardless of how he felt, Louis had been delighted when he finally got up the courage to call him and invite him down to the show, and assured him more than once that he and Zayn would be there to support him, and that Niall and Liam would be there in spirit as they were at the tail end of another eighty hour work week.

And support they did. Zayn’s whistles were loud enough to be heard from the top of the Space Needle, while Louis had his camera in front of his face for nearly the entire set, save for a moment during his song ‘Medicine’ where he pulled it to the side to raise his eyebrows, an amused smirk on his face for the remainder of the song.

He had always been uncertain on whether he wanted to pursue a career in music, because though he did love the writing and performing aspect of it, he had no desire to become famous. But the feeling he had when Louis was struck by his song, _that_ he liked a lot. If he liked it that much, then it would be pretty cool to have other people enjoy it too.  

The outline of his mother’s figure standing in the doorway had him pressing pause on his future endeavors, turning to meet the smile so similar to his own.

“Hey honey, you were so great up there,”

“Thanks mom.”

She wagged a finger as strode closer to him, giving him the stern mother look of his youth, “I don’t know about those lyrics though, as far as I know my baby is an angel and I want to keep it that way.”

Harry laughed, drawing her into a hug. He closed his eyes and breathed in her familiar rose scented hair. “It’s just a song, mom,”

She stepped away, narrowing her eyes at him, still with that fond smile attached to her lips. “Well besides all that, I have some exciting news. There was a guy from Sony asking if you had any demos,”

Harry’s eyes almost fell right out of the sockets from shock. “No fucking way!”

“ _Harry_ ,”

“Sorry.”

There was nothing quite like a token mom voice to make you feel twelve years old again. Well that, and blue eyed boys with shaggy hair and a heart of gold.

She shook her head, forgiving the dollar he usually owed when he swore in front of her. “I told him you were working on one and to come back for your next show in two weeks,”

“Uh mom, neither of those things are true or happening,”

“Yes, but they will be,” she put hand on his shoulder, walking him over towards the door. “Your new friends will probably be able to help you out with the demo, and as the owner of the club I think it’s safe to say you’ve got a spot anytime you want it. Now go on, Zayn and Louis are waiting for you by the bar,”

He followed her down the dimly lit hallway, smiling and waving a goodbye when she squeezed his arm and disappeared into her office. He continued out to the bar area and took a moment to pause and admire Louis so he could get it out of his system, otherwise he might start waxing poetic about his eyelashes or something equally as embarrassing.

Their eyes lit up as he approached their circle of two, with Zayn eagerly waving him over and Louis bouncing on the tips of his toes, a manic grin beaming from his face.

“There he is, future rock star Harry Styles!”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, a bashful flush blooming in his chest. “I’m assuming mom told you then?”

Louis nodded towards the small crowd gathered around the edges of the bar waiting for the band to come on, “And anyone else who would listen,”

Harry covered a hand over his eyes, shaking his head, “Oh my god.”

“It’s fucking rad, Harry,” Zayn tugged his hand down and pinched his rosy cheek. “Let’s go for a drink to celebrate, we can chat about where to get the demo cut and all that good stuff.”

“Alright, yeah, that sounds good.”

Louis looped his arm around Harry’s, swinging them around towards the entrance. “No offence to your mum, but I am dying for a daiquiri,”

Harry chuckled, trying not to completely lean into Louis, or reach down and hold onto his hand. “Yeah, we don’t really specialize in those.”

They followed Zayn out to the sidewalk where he stood to hail a cab and Louis let go of him, regrettably. He had that same smirk back on his lips as earlier, though he was staring straight ahead this time instead of at Harry.

“So…and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you…tasted, I assume?”

He didn’t bother to look back at Harry, he simply crawled into the back of the cab, leaving Harry beet red and having nowhere to look but at his ass.

“God.”

If you’re out there, please help.

…

They ended up less than a ten minute cab ride away at the Seattle Eagle, sipping on strawberry daiquiris and shrouded in Zayn’s cigarette smoke as he chatted animatedly about where Harry could record.

“It’s gonna be so sick.”

Harry circled his straw around the lip of his drink, pushing a fresh strawberry into the icy depths. “I think you’re more excited than I am,”

“New talent _is_ exciting, especially in this day and age.”

Louis nudged his shoulder to get his attention, nodding towards the dance floor, which was sparsely packed this early on in the evening. “So, what’s your type?”

Harry coughed around a sip of his fruity drink, darting his eyes over at Zayn, who was suddenly quiet, those all-knowing eyes focused directly on him.

“Oh, um,” he did a quick survey of the room, desperately searching for someone who wasn’t Louis. “Maybe him?” He pointed to an average sized blonde guy with a nice smile, who kind of looked like Niall. Jeez.

A look of confusion crossed Louis’ face as he scratched a hand through his floppy hair. Well if he was confused, that made two of them. “Really?”

Harry started to shrug noncommittally when Louis abruptly stood up and hopped down from his stool, “I’m going to get us another round,”

Harry watched him saunter up to the bar, charming two different guys on his way up there, and sighed into the last of his drink.

“He’ll get there Harry,

He flicked his eyes up at Zayn, who rounded the table to stand beside him, bowing his head so he could talk low in his ear. “Louis has had his guard up since Brad, but I know that he’s into you. He wouldn’t willingly go and watch anyone perform who wasn’t Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny or Tommy, believe me.”

Harry hunched into himself, mumbling into his drink, “I didn’t think I was being _that_ obvious.”

Zayn laughed, bumping his head against Harry’s. “You are, but it’s cute. I think you’d be really good together because Lou’s a bit hyper and scatterbrained at the best of times, and you’re this quiet, peaceful old soul that calms him down. It’s kind of spooky actually,” he brought his hands up to Harry’s shoulders, turning him to face not Niall. “But sometimes, he just needs a little push.”

“What should I do?”

Zayn nudged him until he begrudgingly stepped down from his stool.

“Go rile him up.”

Harry nodded, steeling himself as he readjusted his bun and unbuttoned his denim shirt to expose a hint of skin. He had on fitted black jeans and Docs to complete his look, and he thinks he must have been looking alright as not Niall was eyeing him up with interest, turning away from his group of friends to meet Harry at the edge of the dance floor.

Harry didn’t know what to do with his hands in an instance like this, so he gave him a feeble wave. “Hi, I’m Harry,”

“Well hello hot Harry, I’m Josh,” he glanced over Harry’s shoulder, cocking his eyebrow with amusement. “Are you here to make your friend jealous?”

Harry shook his hands out in front of him in a panic, “Oh no, he’s—

“No, not the model, he’s clearly taken,” he reached out and curled his fingers around Harry’s wrist, walking them the few steps to the dance floor. “I mean the Ramones impersonator who deserves a Razzie for pretending he doesn’t care that you’re over here.”

“Oh yeah, that’s him.” Harry bit his lip, raising his eyebrows, “You don’t mind?”

“Oh god, you sweet little thing, come here,” he spun Harry around and pulled him flush against his chest. “Just close your eyes, enjoy the music, and let me do the rest.”

That sounded easy enough to him, he could get into this Depeche Mode song no problem.

Josh bounced around behind him, cheekily rolling his hips and laughing with his head thrown back, making it seem like they were having an excellent time already. Damn. He was good.

His lips came up to Harry’s ear as he placed a cautious hand on Harry’s stomach. “Is it okay if I put my hand under your shirt?”

He nodded, smiling over his shoulder at him, “Thanks for asking.”

“Of course dumplin, it’s all about respect.” Harry’s stomach bounced against his hand as he laughed in surprise at the touch, with Josh gasping happily in his ear. “Ooh, he’s got abs! Are you sure you’re into this guy?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Josh slid his fingers across his stomach, nodding his head towards their table, “I definitely think it’s working, that smile on his face is all teeth clenching honey.”

Harry had to admit it did look like Louis’ face was going to break in half from how hard he was trying to smile.

The song faded out and Harry turned around, grinning over at this dance partner. “That was actually kind of fun. Thank you,”

He reached over and bopped Harry on the nose, blowing him a kiss as he backed away, “The pleasure was all mine, dumplin. Good luck!”

Harry watched him head back over to his friends, wiggling his fingers when he looked over his shoulder to smile at Harry again. He turned on his heel to head back to the table, thinking that he didn’t need good luck. What he needed was to get Louis alone. They were always with friends or seeing each other in passing, so it wasn’t really ideal to blurt out ‘I think I love you’ in either of those scenarios.

But then an idea sparked in his head, and he knew exactly what he could do.

Zayn gave him a subtle thumbs up from behind Louis, who was aggressively (and obscenely he might add) sucking on his beverage. His eyes briefly dropped down to Harry’s stomach before travelling up his torso to look at him full on. Harry almost did a victory dance at the hint of annoyance behind them.

“You looked like you had fun out there,”

“Yeah, he was nice, anyways, can I ask you a favor?”

Louis seemed taken aback by his abrupt change of subject, but nodded his go ahead. “Of course,”

Okay, Harry barely had a plan, but you bet your ass he was going to invent one on the fly. “I’m going to need some pictures to go with the demo and for future stuff I guess, so I was wondering if you maybe had some time this weekend to help me with those?”

Louis finally smiled, and it was an authentic one because his eyes did that crinkly thing at the sides that Harry liked more than he needed to. “I’d be honored.”

Zayn mouthed a ‘yay!” and waved his hands behind Louis, quickly dropping them again when he turned back to look at him. “Do you want to stay for another?”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna head home. Li should be stumbling in any minute now.”

Harry nodded along to agree. Now that he had a plan in motion, there was something he needed to get to complete the look he was envisioning for his photo shoot. “I’m pretty beat too, I think I’ll head home as well,”

Louis shrugged, “Alright, sounds good to me, I can always go to bed.”

Harry let out an extended sigh. If only he knew how good _that_ sounded.

Louis reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen, scribbling on the lone coaster in front of him and passing it to Harry after. “Here’s my address, how does four on Saturday work for you?”

“It’s perfect.”

They filed out of the bar, though not without Harry passing Josh one last time and sharing a low key high five.

“Good job dumplin.”

~                                                                            

**April 1999**

 

Louis had been a professional photographer for a good number of years by now, and he had seen _a lot_ in those years. He’s taken pictures of Ozzy for Christ’s sake.

However, nothing had prepared him for when Harry Styles strolled into his house wearing a calf length embellished jacket, opting to forgo his shirt for some reason unbeknownst to Louis, accompanied by red fitted pants and a fucking leather collar.

All Louis could do was stare, dropping his mouth open and shut for what seemed like an eternity, but he hoped was less than sixty seconds. When he finally found his voice all he could squeeze out was, “This is a different look.”

Now, Louis is not stupid or blind. He knows that Harry is gorgeous. He’s also young and his career is surely about to take off, and as displayed the other night, apparently guys that resemble Niall are his type. And that’s all fine. Louis is so in awe of him for being himself and knowing himself, and wanting to share that with him so quickly after they met. Really, just knowing him was special. So he’s okay with the fact that they are friends, and he’ll have to get used to Harry looking like this and eventually having Niall 2.0 on his arm.

But then (supposedly) innocent Harry smiled and shook his hair out from the trademark bun he usually had it tied in, leaving Louis dumbfounded and breathless. “Yeah I thought I’d try something new, you know like a rock star persona?”

Yeah, he fucking knows, but he had zero time to mentally wrap his head around the idea of Harry actually being a rock star. This was an all too sudden transformation.

Louis didn’t usually do photo shoots at his house, so he had set up a makeshift set in his living room, hanging a white sheet up on the wall and setting up a stool in the middle of it. He wanted to keep it simplistic, so that Harry was the main focus. And god was he ever.

He had situated Harry on the stool, fixing his jacket around him and steadfastly not looking at any of his creamy, pale skin. He asked with his eyes before touching Harry’s hair, to which he nodded an okay, his eyes following Louis’ movements. “I’m just going to do a little adjustment here so we get a middle part,” he shook his head, smiling as he finally met Harry’s eyes for what seemed like the first time since he got there. “I can’t believe you have this much hair, I’ve never seen it all down before,”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. It reminds me of Chris Cornell’s, but way prettier,” he slid his fingers down to the bottom of a curl, twisting it around the tip of his pointer finger. “Are you ready?”

Harry looked elated. Louis couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to photograph him like this.

“Yeah.”

Louis took a couple of steps back and grabbed his camera off the coffee table and crouched down to get into position. He brought his lens up and felt a sense of pride wash over him. He was doing a job that he lived for, all while getting to look at Harry emerge from out of his shell. It was simply amazing to watch.

The afternoon sun was starting to fade, leaving a beautiful golden hue on Harry’s skin. Louis paused on his next frame, contemplating on whether he should switch out to another lens. He immediately decided that yes, he needed more drama.

“Hey, gimmie one sec, I’m just going to grab another lens from my office.”

He padded down the hallway, quickly grabbing the piece that he needed, changing it on the go as he made his way back to the living room. When he looked back up he stopped dead in his tracks and was thankfully still holding onto his camera, he at least wanted that to be in one piece.

Because Louis certainly was not.

There, draped along his couch ala Kate Winslet in Titanic was Harry Styles in nothing but a smile and that black leather collar.

“Uh…” Honestly, what else could he say?

Harry didn’t falter, that (oblivious?) shy smile still peacefully spread across his face. “I kind of wanted some artsy shots just for myself, since my hair is looking especially good today. Is that okay?”

Yes, of course it was okay. Louis was a professional, as he has had to remind himself several times since Harry walked through his door. He’s taken pictures like this before. He was not sweating. He was fine.

“Yeah of course, sure,”

He wasn’t really sure, but he was going to stay at least five feet away. Distance seemed like a very good idea right now.

He brought the camera back up and took a deep breath. Harry was naked. On his couch. In a collar. This wasn’t a big deal. It was all good. That’s the mantra he kept repeating to himself as he snapped photos from varying angles. Mostly shots from the chest up, he wasn’t Jesus walking on water here.

“Louis,”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me?”

He wanted to snap that he was looking at him through a zoomed lens, but instead took another deep breath, lowering the camera. He looked over at Harry, but was mostly focused on the wall behind him.

“You can have me like this,” Louis shook out of his trance with the wall, meeting Harry’s eyes as his heart pounded in his ears. “If you want me.”

He blinked at Harry, who continued to cautiously watch him, though his eyes were hopeful as he bit his lip, waiting for Louis’s response. He slowly walked over to him, sitting down on his knees in front of him. “Harry…”

He shook his head, sitting up against the side of the couch. “Louis, please listen. I’ve been thinking about this, about you, since we first met,”

Louis laughed. This was too much for him. “Why?”

“Have you seen you?”

“Umm yeah I have, have you seen _you_?”

Harry smiled. “Are we just going to do this back and forth then?”

Louis placed a hand on his cheek and shook his head, leaning in to kiss him, feather light with no intent behind it. It was lovely and pure. He leaned back, cocking his head questioningly. “But what about the other night?”

A guilty flush bloomed high on his cheeks. “Zayn may have encouraged me a little bit. He was nice, but he was definitely not my type,”

“Honestly, I deserved that, but it’s not like I wanted to hook you up with other people. I just thought, you know, we’d be good friends,”

Harry laughed, nodding down at his lap, “I may have thought something similar.”

Louis groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead, “Okay, going forward we definitely need to work on our communication skills,”

“I agree.” Harry smiled softly, searching Louis’ eyes. “Can you kiss me again?”

Louis nodded and slid a hand over his chest, resting it on Harry’s heart. He felt the thump thump of anticipation as they moved their lips together, and Harry hummed in content as his warm tongue wrapped around Louis’.

The room was peacefully quiet in the midst of the press of their lips and breathy sighs of pleasure, the purpling twilight sky almost masking the fact that Harry was naked. But that was definitely not something that Louis could forget. 

Louis hooked an arm around Harry’s waist and used his thigh muscles to push up and carry him to the bedroom. Despite making minimal efforts to exercise other than a run a couple of times a week, he did crouch a lot for work and even though Harry had three hundred pounds of hair, he was quite light, so they made it to the bed without any injuries.

Louis gently set him down on the edge of his bed, moving back to step out of his own clothes. Harry sat up on his elbows to take him in, those hooded eyes trailing over every inch of Louis that was exposed, and honestly, having Harry look at him like that was already better than any sex he’s ever had in his life.

He crawled onto his lap and Harry sat up fully to meet him, immediately drawing him into another kiss. Louis deepened it and groaned into his mouth, dragging a hand through Harry’s hair. “Fuck, I think I could come just from touching this hair,”

Harry laughed into another lingering kiss, “If that’s what you want to do.”

Louis stilled for a moment, leaning back and holding onto Harry’s face. “We can do anything you want. We can kiss, lie in bed, hold each other, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Harry thread his fingers through the ends of Louis’ hair, playing with them distractedly, “I…I’ve never, with anyone,”

Louis finally understood that he really was reenacting the Titanic. He rubbed a hand up his back, giving him a reassuring smile. “Okay love. But everything I said still stands, we don’t have to do anything. I am happy enough just being here with you.”

“Lou, I want to. I’ve been waiting for someone special. You _are_ that person,”

Louis felt that like a punch to the gut. He pressed another quiet kiss on Harry’s lips, tracing his fingers over them afterwards. “It’s been a long time for me…I guess I’ve been waiting for someone special too.”

Harry smiled, stroking a thumb along the cut of Louis’ stubbly jawline. “I trust you,” he kissed him again, slipping his tongue back into Louis’ mouth, a needy moan rumbling in the back of his throat. He pulled away with a pant and a bold little roll of the hips. “Since we’re communicating now, I just needed to tell you that you’re the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen, aside from George Michael.” He kissed Louis again with a shrug of his shoulders, “I’m sorry, but he will always be first.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but he definitely considered getting a commemorative t-shirt made. “That’s relatable, I feel the same way about,” he jabbed a finger against Harry’s chest in warning, “And you better not fucking laugh,”

“I promise.”

“…Bon Jovi.”

Harry fell back against the bed, rolling onto his side in a fit of giggles, huffing out, “I’m sorry,”

“ _Harry_ ,”

“I’m sorry!” He only giggled harder, rolling back over to look at Louis again. He twirled a finger around a piece of hair with another laugh and a smug smile to go along with it. “I guess you have a thing for curly hair,”

Louis leaned down over him, caging him in between his arms. “Yep, and if you ever cover ‘Living On a Prayer’ consider me a dead man.”

Harry nodded down between them, “You seem pretty alive right now,”

“You are a cheeky little bugger, you know that?”

“I do.” He pushed his hips up, fluttering his eyelashes at Louis with an expectant smile. “Will you have sex with me now?”

Louis peppered kisses up the side of his neck until he got to his ear, speaking in a quiet whisper just for the two of them.

“As you wish.”

…

Louis took his time with Harry, being ever so careful when he opened him up, pressing sweet kisses to the insides of his thighs, and taking direction from his every moan and whisper as to what felt exactly right for him.

He offered him tortuously slow swirls of the tongue around the head of his cock as he pushed his fingers up against that perfect sweet spot, only pulling away when he had his thighs shaking and Harry cursing his name.

When he was finally buried inside of him, it felt like a moment suspended in time. Louis had never felt anything like this before, and Harry reiterated the same sentiment, for almost the entire time and when Louis finally came down from his high and caught his breath, Harry was back on top of him, grinning down at him with a devilish smile.

“Again.”

Louis never expected in a million years that this is how his day would go, but now that he had Harry above him, his wild mane of hair spilling over his shoulders and that determined look in his eye as he bent down over Louis’ cock, he never wanted it to end.

~                                                                                    

**September 1999**

 

“Welcome to the team Harry, we’ll be in touch,”

Harry stood there dumbfounded as he dropped the hand of his new manager Ed, who had been scouting him since the first time spoke to his mother in April. He had come back again for the second show Harry did that month, but at that time he had told him to put just a little bit more heart and soul into his writing.

“You’ve got it in you Harry, I can hear it, but now I want you to make me _feel_ it. I’ll see you in September.”

So apparently all it took was a summer of love with Louis to convince Ed that Harry had what it takes to be a successful singer songwriter in the new millennium.

And really, it was all Louis. It was when they weren’t together, and now that they were no one could stop him from writing all of the sappy love songs his heart desired, _for_ his heart’s desire.  All of their friends thought that he was embarrassing, and maybe he was, but he didn’t care. Niall did convince him to write a song for one the many nurses he was chasing because he swore that she was going to be the one and he needed to impress her. She wasn’t of course, but ‘Just a Little Bit of Your Heart’ was a hit at his shows, so really he should be thanking Niall for being an absolute train wreck when it came to dating.

He wrote ‘Sign of the Times’ one night after smoking way too much weed with Zayn and Liam, because apparently watching them run around in a field, spinning in circles screaming ‘get away from me!’ at each other was very inspiring.

But the song that had turned Ed was his magnum opus to Louis. His everything. The love of his life. His ‘Sweet Creature’. Harry didn’t think he would ever find enough words to describe how he felt about Louis. He may have only been twenty two, but he knew without a doubt that he was going to be with Louis for the rest of his life. Louis was sweet, loving and attentive with him, but he also got on Harry’s last nerve, drove him crazy in all the right ways, and could show Harry with one look just how much he loved him.

He told Harry every day, multiple times a day, but sometimes all he did was look at him, and he knew.

Through all the ups and down, the good and the bad, the perfect and even more perfect, they were just two hearts in one home.

And now his heart had basically gotten him a recording contract, so he really needed to go and find him. He could think about the fact that he just played to three hundred people another time, because the next time, there could possibly be a thousand of them, and so on and so on. It was a lot to wrap his head around in this very overly exciting moment.

He ran down the hall to the dressing room, hoping that Louis was waiting in there for him like he usually did, and of course there he was, like the sun in a rainy drought, sitting on the vanity with a grin. Harry fit himself in between his legs, bringing his hands up to squeeze around Louis’ waist. “That was so amazing,”

Louis tucked a curl behind his ear, “You’re always amazing, baby.” He rubbed a thumb under his eye, titling his head in question. “What did Ed say?”

Harry widened his eyes, bouncing up and down on his feet. “They want to sign me,”

Louis flung his arms around his shoulders, squeezing the excited breath out of him. “Fuck yes! I knew they would, oh my god, Harry!” He pulled back, his face full of wonder and awe, and his eyes looking dangerously wet. “I’m so fucking proud of you. I think I’m going to cry.”

Harry shook his head, wiping away one of his own runaway tears, “Don’t you dare,”

“So what does that mean, did they give you the plan?”

Harry looped their fingers together, holding them in Louis’ lap. “Ed is going to send me all the details this week, but they want me to go to LA so I can start to work on the record,”

Louis shook their linked hands, positively vibrating with happiness. And this is exactly one of the many reasons Harry loved him. He was proud of everything he’d accomplished in his own life, but nothing made him more ecstatic than seeing Harry succeed. And it made Harry’s heart ache, because Louis had believed in him from day one. “Fuck, this is so exciting!”

Harry nodded slowly, “It is, because I was thinking about something,”

Louis leaned forward to smack a kiss on his lips, and smiled into the following slow and soft one. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, Ed had mentioned that they want to do a West Coast tour eventually, and as you know, tours need photographers,”

Louis pursed his lips, drawing a finger down the exposed collar of Harry’s shirt. “Alright, you have my attention now,”

Harry shuffled in closer, bumping their noses together. “So, you wanna come to LA with me? Take some pictures, hang with your boyfriend, you know, lame stuff like that,”

Louis snagged Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, sliding his tongue into Harry’s parted lips. “Yeah, I wanna come to LA with you.”

They lost themselves in the kiss for a few moments, with Louis ending it by twisting his body around to grab his camera. He indicated for Harry to turn around and lean against his chest, holding the camera out to face the two of them.

Harry flicked his eyes up at him, eyebrows furrowed curiously. “What are you doing?”

“What I do best.”

“Funny.”

Louis snuggled his face into the side of Harry’s neck, pressing another gentle kiss to his pulse point.

“I’m taking this so we can remember the first night of the rest of our lives.”

Now Harry was truly crying.

“I love you, Lou.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

~                                                                                   

**February 2019**

 

Louis paused at their bedroom door, chewing his lip as he turned to look back at the photo album. He was a feeling a bit nostalgic today and truthfully, Zayn could wait another minute. Louis had probably wasted what has added up to many hours waiting around for him at various shows and events over the years.

He crossed the short distance of the room to sit on the end of their king sized bed, sliding the leather bound book into his lap. His smile was instantaneous as soon as he opened it to the very first page. His heart fluttered the same way now as it did when he had taken the picture of Harry he was looking down at. Obviously given his line of work he was constantly taking pictures of family, friends and loved ones, but putting their memories into these albums had been Harry’s idea and Louis would forever be thankful for that.

Their first few years together were a whirlwind of recording sessions, touring, and Harry’s rise to the top of the carts. He had taken off, just as Louis had always believed he would and he had the divine pleasure of being able to capture it on film. They were constantly in and out of cities around North America, and then overseas and beyond. Harry had played so many shows in so many places that at times they couldn’t remember where they were or what day it was.

Living in each other’s pockets was certainly a test on their relationship, as it would be on anyone’s, and of course there were little fights here and there, but the biggest one of them all had led to a twelve hour break up in France (the worst twelve hours of Louis’ life up to date) followed by a twenty four hour makeup in Barcelona, where Louis slipped another ring on Harry’s finger, vowing to never drink tequila nor try to straighten Harry’s hair ever again.

There were Grammy’s and American Music awards that littered their shelves and office space, but it was the movie that required Harry to chop off all his hair that placed an Oscar right next to them. They had moved back to London while Harry had been filming and Louis had spent much of that time drinking wine with his sisters, as they were the only ones that would tolerate his drunken sobbing about Harry’s hair being gone.

Unfortunately there was picture evidence and he chuckled as he turned the page, knowing that he would never live that dark period down. He eventually moved on, as time flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Zayn and Liam got married in 2004 when it finally became legal in Massachusetts, and there was not a single dry eye in the house. Niall got married and divorced that same year, but finally got it right the second time in 2009, and they were still going strong, now owning a successful practice together in Beverly Hills with a client list consisting of Kardashians and Jenners.

California suited Niall, he had the personality to get along with just about anyone and had no problem faking it to make it, because the Irish in him knew how to talk a lot of shit. They had lived in LA very briefly during one of Harry’s album recording sessions, but they preferred the quiet life in Seattle, so that had always remained their home base.

They got married in 2012 because they had wanted to wait until it was legal in Washington, it was where this all began for them and it was their home after all. Harry was still as successful as ever, but he had slowed down his touring schedule once they adopted beautiful baby Rosie in 2014. He eventually took a job as a coach on the Voice so he could stop travelling all together, and Louis had hung up his own touring lens to teach classes at the local university.

Zayn and Liam had two gorgeous girls of their own, Rachel and Zoe, who they had via surrogate a year before they got married. They were almost sixteen now, and still just as sweet as they were growing up, due to the two fathers who had raised them right. It was also nice having two built in babysitters, as they all lived within a few blocks of each other now.

Zayn still wrote here and there but mostly worked at the record shop, which yes, was surprisingly still in business due to the vinyl renaissance of the late 2010’s, and Liam was the head of neurology at the hospital, which he loved to say was because all of his friends were nuts, how could he have specialized in anything else.

Louis could only shake his head as he placed a hand to his heart and laughed at all their amazing memories, all while having Liam shout at him from downstairs now.

“Seriously Louis, what are you doing up there, he’s going to be here any minute!”

He closed the album and pushed it to the middle of the bed, checking himself out one last time before jogging down the stairs to meet his friends. Yes, he still wanted to look good for his husband because he _was_ a good husband. When he reached the landing a wide smile spread across his face as he scooped his daughter up in his arms and headed into the kitchen. “Hello baby girl,”

“Hi daddy,”

“Have you been having fun with grandma?”

“Of course,”

Louis bounced her in his arms as he grinned at their group of friends gathered around the island in their kitchen, a full spread of different foods already set out and ready to eat. Really, what did they need Louis for?

“This looks great, thanks so much for helping out,”

Zayn rolled his eyes, taking the tray of cookies that Liam was pulling out of the oven from his hands, “No thanks to you dawdling for the last half an hour.”

Anne moved to his side, smoothing a hand up his back, taking Rosie out of his arms, “He’ll be here in a minute, go get your hubby,”

Louis pressed a kiss to his baby’s forehead and to Anne’s cheek, waving to the rest of the crowd as he made his way to the front door.

Harry had been in LA working for the past two weeks and while he was gone, Louis and all of their wonderful family and friends had been plotting a surprise 42nd birthday party. Yes, this was not an age that is usually celebrated, however Harry had work obligations that he couldn’t get out of for his last two birthdays. He had gotten back into acting, taking on a couple of movies in the years prior, and was now considering a part in a Netflix series that would start filming sometime in the summer.

Louis found it hard to complain about seeing his gorgeous husband on a big screen, but Harry didn’t enjoy being away from his family during occasions like birthdays and anniversaries, so this was the year that Louis was going to make it up to him.

He closed the front door behind him just as Harry was pulling into the driveway. Louis always offered to drive him to the airport, but he insisted on paying the obnoxious parking fees because he liked to wind down from whatever headspace he was in from work on the way home. Louis had mentioned there was this great invention called ‘Uber’ that offered you the same service, but Harry just gave him ‘the look’ that he was certain he inherited from Anne.

Harry barely had time to step down out of the SUV before Louis had him in his arms, spinning him around in a circle. Hey, he may have been pushing fifty, but those thigh muscles still had the mind of a twenty year old. Louis placed him back on his feet, holding his face in his hands as he kissed him. “Hello honey,”

Harry laughed into their kiss, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders and tucking his face into the side of his neck to breathe him in. “Hey babe. Did you miss me or something?”

Louis nodded, still savoring their kiss. That would never change. “Every waking minute,”

“Where’s Rosie?”

“Inside,”

Harry shook a fist up to the sky, “Damn, I thought she’d be with mom.”

Louis flicked him on the nose, “Harold, why are you cursing our child?”

Harry grabbed onto his hips, giving a quick thrust as he smirked into another kiss. “Because I haven’t had you inside me in two whole weeks,”

“I’m so glad you still have the sex drive of a twenty two year old, that doesn’t make me feel old at all.”

Harry held onto his shoulders, searching his eyes. “So you don’t want to have sex with your husband?”

Louis sighed. He really couldn’t believe that Harry had not been the death of him by now. “I always do baby, but—

“Surprise!!”

Harry clutched his heart and caught his running daughter in his arms, holding her giggling face against his chest, “Hi dad, I missed you!” His eyes grew wide with as he looked at the group of people gathered in their doorway. He turned his head to Louis, still in a state of shock. “What is all this?”

Louis picked up his suitcase and wrapped an arm around his waist to usher him inside, “Come on love, you’ll see,”

They all spilled back inside the house, laughing and cheering about how successful their surprise had been. Harry moved through the crowd hugging and greeting all of their friends with a baffled look on his face, “I love you all, but is forty two really that special? I certainly didn’t need a reminder that I’m getting old,”

Louis chuckled, walking over to him to pat his cheek, “None of us do, but you missed the big 4-0 and we couldn’t do a party last year again, so here we are, loving you at every age.”

Zayn wiped a stray tear from his face, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder. “When did you get this sappy?”

Niall shook his head, tipping a shot up to his lips, (yes that was also still a thing after all these years) “Harry is way worse, we all know this.”

Yes, Louis knew all too well, he had all the songs to prove it. “Do you guys mind if I steal him for a minute?”

The entire group almost collectively sighed as Zayn pointed at them, “Yeah, but no funny business.”

Louis shook his head and grabbed Harry’s hand to lead him up the stairs. Honestly, they weren’t that bad...anymore. And everyone should be happy that they were happy and willing to take each other’s clothes off still.

Harry sat down on the bed when they got in the room, sliding the photo album over towards him. He glanced up at Louis, who was holding onto the velvet box he had been hiding in his (empty) sock drawer for the past month.

Harry eyed him suspiciously, “What’s that?”

Louis sat down on the next to him, picking Harry’s hand up to hold against his heart. He opened the box, smiling at Harry’s quiet shock. “I read somewhere that platinum and emerald are the symbols for twenty years together, and since Seattle is also known as the Emerald City, I thought it was fitting,”

He pulled the ring out of the cushioning, slipping it onto to a finger on Harry’s right hand. He brought his hand up to his lips, meeting Harry’s misty green eyes. “Twenty years, baby. Sometimes I can’t believe how fast time has gone by, and sometimes it feels like I just met you yesterday, and every day I can’t believe how much I love you,”

Harry choked on the sob in the back of his throat, shaking his head, “Lou…”

“Shh, I’m not done.” He stroked a finger through the wrinkles at the sides of Harry’s eyes, watching his face soften. “I will never forget the first time I saw you. I knew you’d be a star,”

Harry closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Louis, “And you know I’d give it all up if you ever asked me to.”

“I know that baby.” Louis twisted around to fold him into a hug, stroking at the still springy curls on the nape of his neck, “I could never have asked for a better life with you. So here’s to twenty more.”

“God I love you.”

Harry kissed him softly, pulling back to point down at the photo album now placed in his lap, which had been flipped open to the first page. “I never realized you took any pictures the first night we met, did you just put these in here?”

Louis shrugged innocently. “I might have.”

Harry laughed, thumbing over the image. “I can’t believe I told you my favorite song was a Mariah Carey song,”

Louis laughed alongside him, pulling the album out of his hands to place back on the shelf. He turned back to Harry, who in the late February sun looked like he hadn’t aged a day since that night. “You will, you know,”

Harry shook his head, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Will what?”

“Always be my baby.”

 

~The End~

 

"You'll always be a part of me  
I'm part of you indefinitely

  
Boy don't you know you can't escape me?  
Ooh darling 'cause you'll always be my baby

  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong

  
No way you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling 'cause you'll always be my baby" 

**Author's Note:**

> The Showbox is a wonderful live venue, though during that time frame it was a comedy club, but we'll pretend that isn't the case, just how Spin magazine was based out of New York, but hey, writers can be based anywhere and this is an AU, let's work with it. 
> 
> Also, visit Seattle! It is great. 
> 
> xo


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